


December 17th - Punklock

by ohdrey89



Series: Mollstrade Advent Adventurous Time Warp 2015 [7]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: 1980s, Alternate Universe - 1980s, Alternate Universe - Punk, Awesome Molly, BAMF Lestrade, Christmas, F/M, Knives, Leather Jackets, Motorcycles, Punk Greg, Punk Jim, Silver Fox Lestrade, Teen Greg, Teen Jim, Teen Molly, Threats of Rape/Non-Con, Threats of Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-17
Updated: 2015-12-17
Packaged: 2018-05-07 07:03:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,977
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5447540
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ohdrey89/pseuds/ohdrey89
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Advent Calendar of Mollstrade (Mollestrade, Lestrolly) continues.</p><p>December 17th - It's 1980's London and Molly is shopping with friends. Some punks try to cause trouble but they didn't know who would stop them or that he would stop Molly's heart.</p>
            </blockquote>





	December 17th - Punklock

**Author's Note:**

> Here's a visual for today's little adventure. Rupert Graves in Different For Girls. You know you love it as much as I do. 
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> Unf. How could you not? 
> 
> Disclaimer: We didn’t create it, we’re not making money from it. But that’s not going to stop the ideas from coming, so here we all are anyway. We might as well live.

**December 17th - A Punklock Christmas**

\---

Molly Hooper walked through the winding London streets with the Christmas shopping she had done for her mother in hand. Her friends were chatting alongside her about nothing in particular. As long as she smiled and laughed when appropriate she could pretend that she wasn’t trying to fend off boredom at the inanity of their conversations. She never much cared for knowing things about makeup, clothes, or popular movie stars from America and what new movie they were going to be in. Molly pulled the acid wash denim fleece coat she wore closer to her person against the cold winter breeze that blew down the street at them. Her jeans weren’t very much help against the December cold but she was thankful that she had decided to wear her leg warmers. She looked around the part of the city they were in and didn’t quite know where they were. She hadn’t really been paying attention and thought perhaps her friends knew where they were going.

“Where are we girls?” Molly asked seeing they were now in a rougher part of London, away from the shops and there was no underground station in sight.

“I have no idea.” One of the other girls said aimlessly looking around without a solution. “Maybe we should turn around.” She tried to announce inconspicuously. Molly noticed the girls go quiet and looked up to see a group of punks coming towards them prowling for good girls like them to harass. It wasn’t often that punks usually caused problems unless there were labor protests, but there were always assholes no matter where you went. They were covered in piercings, and leather, with their hair in Mohawks and spikes of greens, reds and oranges. They wore steel-toed boots and sneers that had the other girls quivering, but Molly wouldn’t be cowed.

“We don’t want any trouble.” Molly warned gripping the bags in her hands tightly ready to swing. She watched as several of them held chains, and one even a broken bottle, while the rest wore fingerless leather gloves with spikes on them. Molly swallowed against her nerves, feeling her mouth run dry. The leader stepped before her with a swagger the other punks lacked, they seemed to be just your average dumb idiots but the guy that was calling the shots could barely pass a punk. His hair was shortly cropped whereas the other haircuts of his gang were outrageous at least. He had no safety pin piercings or piercings of any kind anywhere about his person and the leather jacket he wore was barely worn or torn like the other punks wore, his looked expensive and brand new. He was the leader yet barely looked like he could fit into the group.

“Good. Then you won’t be.” The leader of the pack of punks spoke with an Irish lilt and giggled, reaching out to grab at Molly’s arm. The girls started screaming for help as the punks managed to surround Molly and her friends and pull them into a side street from where they had been that was now very much abandoned. The leader of the punk pack cornered Molly separately from the rest of her friends while his buddies kept them apart from Molly. “Now let’s start the main attraction eh?” The kid suggested with a dementedly broad smile at the idea.

“Not a chance.” Molly protested her chine lifted as high as the braided ponytail on her head.

“Look luv, we can either do this the fun way, where you give me what I want-” The guy suggested with a sing-song and brandished a switchblade with a flourished flick. “-or I can use this and take what I want, the choices is yours.” He finished running the blade along Molly’s cheek another giggle.

They were disturbed from the obscene by the rumble of a motorcycle from the end of the alley they just came from. Molly watched the vision in leather run circles around her friends scaring the punks into dropping their weapons. The leader of the gang however refused to relief his switchblade. His arms came around Molly and the blade of the punk’s knife pressed into the giving flesh of Molly’s neck. She tried to wiggle her way to some sort of advantage but while he was shorter than she was but wiry and able to get one of up her despite the height difference.

The helmeted mystery biker pulled up between the group of girls and Molly with the pack leader standing with her wrapped up in his arms. The guy supported the bike easily on one well-muscled leg as he perched himself on the bike, at ease with himself and his place causing mischief in the world. The biker removed his helmet, silver hair flickering in the bright winter sky, and the cigarette in his lips blowing the smoke into the air ending on a smirk, with the long line of his neck exposed causing Molly to gasp in wonder.

“Lestrade! You’ll not be interfering this time! We’ve found these cunts and we’re taking what we came for.” One of the punks spoke up trying to assault one of Molly’s friends that was nearing in his reach.

“Beat it.” Lestrade rumbled barely giving the punks any consequence. “Or I’ll use your skulls for hood ornaments.” He revved his engine threateningly and the punks scattered. The gravelly rumbles of his voice shuttered through Molly. 

“Molly!” Her friends called to her with frightened shouts, trembling in fear.

“Go back home girls, I’ll make sure she gets home alright.” Lestrade told the girls. Molly didn’t want to notice in that instant how easy it was for her friends to run away simply because Lestrade told them. He turned back to the punk holding onto her and the crazy guy had the nerve to press the knife forcing Molly to turn her head. She met Lestrade’s deep brown eyes and they twinkled with emotion that radiated through Molly. He was afraid, afraid for her, though he didn’t show it. “Let the girl go, Moriarty.” Lestrade suggested in an almost bored tone.

“Why would I let her go when you seem desperate for me to?” Moriarty laughed manically.

“Let her go!” Lestrade growled as the knife cut in deeper, to the point drawing blood. Molly winced against it.

“I will on one condition.” Moriarty bargained with a sneer.

“What?” Lestrade questioned, his brow knitting in concern. He was afraid at how much Moriarty would ask for Molly and desperately willing he was to give in to the psychopath.

“You Sherly and Johnnyboy stay off my turf and keep your sticky fingers out of my business.” Moriarty demanded reaching down to lick the side of Molly’s face causing her to groan in disgust. “That or I’ll comb the fields for this little flower again and pluck her pure little petals one by one.” He took Molly’s earlobe into his teeth and nibbled at it. Molly let out a moan that ended on a whimper. She looked to Lestrade to save her. Lestrade’s brow clouded over with thunder.

“Let her go Moriarty and you’ve got a deal.” Lestrade conceded, no longer able to stand Molly being tortured at the hands of Moriarty.

“No!” Molly shouted twisting in Moriarty’s grip suddenly, putting him off balance. She jabbed an elbow into his ribs causing the arse to double over in pain. Molly ran to Lestrade’s side and looked on stupefied as he kick started the engine.

“Hop on!” Lestrade grumbled over the din of the engine. Molly did as he bade and watched Moriarty scream after them manically enraged at not finding success in his plot while they sped off.

Molly closed her eyes in fear, not knowing if this leather clad punk was her rescuer. Molly tried not to notice how his muscles rippled through his shoulders and biceps as he manipulated the motorcycle to his will. His back rippled pleasantly where she and cuddled into it. She felt a rumbled chuckle echo through his back and into her cheek.

“It’s alright your safe now.” Lestrade grumbled happily as he wound his way through the city streets, passed the shops Molly had gone to only that morning and into the nicer parts of town that lead to her home.

“Thank you for saving me!” Molly smiled leaning against his shoulder so that she could talk into his ear. Apparently that caused a shiver to run through his body.  Greg looked back over his shoulder at Molly, and cleared his throat when their faces became almost too close together.

“Save you? You saved yourself.” Greg laughed with a smile peeling through the late day traffic, only slowing when he came to the calmer, well-known parts of Molly’s neighborhood. They came to a stop in front of Molly’s house.

“How do you know where I live?” Molly questioned with a knowing smile, her honey brown eyes twinkling. Molly watched Lestrade blush at the tips of his ears.

“Uh- Well- Eh- Heh- You see…” Lestrade grumbled under his breath, the blush getting worse and spreading to his nose. “Oh shite.” Lestrade cursed his bumbling speech. He looked down to his steel-toed boots, kicking at a stone on the sidewalk. He looked up when he heard Molly giggling behind her hand.

“The Greg Lestrade, meanest punk in town, bashful.” Molly laughed despite herself, not noticing how close Lestrade became until he towered over her. Molly looked up then with a gasp, a blush coming to her own cheeks, and it wasn’t because of the cold. Lestrade ran a wide, blunt, tan thumb along her cheek bone, his blush softened with his smile. The twinkle in his eyes darkened as his hands cupped her face. Their shared breaths mingled with the air, coming out in puffs of white smoke.

“That’s better.” Lestrade grumbled softly. Molly gulped as her hands came up to curl around Greg’s arms as he lowered his mouth down on Molly’s. His lips danced on hers cause Molly to whimper against his mouth until he backed away to caress her lips with his before pulling away. He backed away a couple steps and couldn’t help the crooked, boyish grin. Molly watched as Greg hopped back onto his motorcycle putting on his gloves wondering how her knees were still holding her up. Watching him attempt to start his motorcycle sprung Molly into action.

“Wait!” Molly ran over to the bike, and Lestrade paused in his jumping to look to Molly his eyebrows raised. “Where are you going?” Molly questioned looking up to Lestrade through her eyelashes. The presents from her shopping laid in front of the gate to her house, forgotten.

“Well,” Greg smiled crookedly. “You’re safe and back home. My work is done.” Lestrade barked a laugh at the idea that he was any sort of knight in shining armor. “Besides you don’t want me around I’m nothing but trouble.” Lestrade grumbled self-deprecatingly.

“I don’t mind trouble. Especially not when trouble looks like you.” Molly suggested with a blush as Lestrade grumbled a laugh.

“Good to know.” Greg reached down then to caress her cheek again and left another soft kiss on her lips. He pulled away with a soft smile, silvered bangs falling into his eyes. Lestrade started the motorcycle and reached to put his helmet back on.

“How will I find you?” Molly questioned grabbing onto his arm, the ripple of his bicep echoed through her.

“Don’t worry I know how to find you.” Lestrade assured with a wink, laughing a deep belly laugh at the blush he brought to Molly’s cheeks again. “Happy Christmas, Molly Hooper.” Lestrade grumbled over the roar of the motorcycle pulling away from the kerb.

“Happy Christmas!” Molly called waving to Lestrade’s retreating form as he drove back towards the center of London town.

\---

**Author's Note:**

> [Reblog](http://ohdrey89.tumblr.com/post/135392578383/december-17th-a-punklock-christmas) it, spread the word!
> 
> There's nothing quite so satisfying as Lestrade on a motorcycle, a vision in leather. I'm sure you agree. 
> 
> Comments and Kudos are our currency of love, spread the wealth around.


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